The Dead Men
by vagueabond
Summary: Jaime Lannister, caught in the middle of the end of the world, is searching for his sister Cersei after they were separated, when he meets Brienne of Tarth - a woman on a similar mission. This is not planned or betaed at all, so this might end up being completely awful.
1. Chapter 1

As Jaime Lannister reached for the axe, he almost used his right hand – again. He clumsily grabbed with his left and swung it violently at the creature before him, successfully beheading it and spraying a mess of gore across the room. He'd thought this house – the house he had grown up in, with his parents and his brother and his sister, once – might be safe, but alas, it too was infested with a few of the…zombies.

Jaime hated calling them that. This whole thing seemed so unreal, and referring to the bloodthirsty, stupid creatures with a name given to them by silly horror movies made the whole situation seem almost laughable. And there was nothing laughable about this.

Jaime had hoped that he might have found his sister Cersei here, that she might have run home to their father, but apparently her stubborn independence had gotten in the way of her sense and she had gone against this. Or perhaps, this was the better choice – Jaime could see no sign of his father anyways, nor his brother Tyrion. Just a couple of stupid walking corpses who didn't belong there.

A noise startled the one-handed man, who swung around and clumsily hacked at yet another of the walking dead men, who had shambled into the living room, perhaps in search of its already dead fellow. He missed the first, but on the second swing he made impact with the creature's neck and its head flew a couple of feet while blood from its jugular spurted out wildly.

He examined his stump for a moment. _Likely my last hospital trip,_ he mused to himself. _And certainly my worst._

Sighing and deciding he was done with this place, Jaime headed out the front door, taking one last look at the abandoned house. He would find Cersei, he was sure of it. If anyone could survive the goddamn zombie apocalypse, it would be his sister. She was one of the hardiest women he knew, and although she wasn't exactly handy with weapons, Cersei was a survivor. She had survived her marriage to a brutal man who had held no love for her and who had beat her on numerous occasions when he was drunk. She had survived the death of her – their – son, Joffrey. Yes, Cersei was a survivor.

He swung the axe over his shoulder and headed out the front door into the lonely streets, once a cacophony of the noises from cars and people alike, now silent as the grave and occupied only by abandoned vehicles and a few of the shambling dead men.

It had to have been weeks since he had seen someone living.

He remembered when he woke up in the hospital that it had already begun, the disease had spread. A handful of his friends from work had come to visit him, had told him that they were going to get their families and go to the country until all this passed.

"Where's Cersei?" he had asked right away.

"She left with your father and Tommen," Officer Selmy had told him. "They were going to pick up Myrcella, they didn't say where else they were going…she sent her regards, though," he had added.

And yet that had only been…a month, two months ago? It seemed as though forever had passed from the moment Jaime woke up in the hospital with a damn _stump_ for a hand and the present moment. Not that this made him feel any more comfortable with the damned thing.

Jaime looked up at the sky, which was beginning to darken. Perhaps it would be better to wait until morning to continue his search. If he could be certain that his former home was empty of dead men, if he locked it up, he could try to sleep for the night – and there was still a bit of food in there not yet scavenged.

He turned, whistling softly as he re-entered his childhood home.

Jaime headed to the kitchen, ears open, hoping his whistling might draw out any remaining…zombies from within the bowels of the massive mansion on Casterly Road. He heard footsteps, turned, and found himself hacking away at another dead person.

Her hair was blonde, her face sunken in, gore dripping from her mouth in the way it did for most of them. He took off her head this time in one clean strike.

She reminded him of his sister.

Jaime's heart sank. He knew that this woman, whoever she might be, was certainly not Cersei – her nose was too big, her eyes were brown instead of the green that was trademark for their family, and her hair was much shorter than Cersei preferred to keep hers. But still, the sight of this woman with her blonde hair had been enough to make the man feel sick.

He turned away from her, continuing to make his way to the kitchen. He finally found the room (and was pleased to see that it was unoccupied by any undead people), and began to search the cupboards. He had briefly looked through them earlier in his search, out of mild curiosity more than anything, but now he was searching for a meal.

He found some slightly stale crackers, a little bit of some kind of wheat cereal, and (he grinned despite himself when he saw the box) three Oreos, also a little soft but still delicious. There was something about Oreos that made every situation a bit better, he thought.

After searching the large house three more times for any additional creatures, Jaime locked every door in the house and lie down in his old bed. This made him miss his sister more than anything, all the memories of the things they had done, unbeknownst to their father and…well, anyone, in this bed. Damn, he missed her.

He pulled the blankets over his body, shivering, and then sleep took him.

It was a mere three hours later when a loud noise awoke him.


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne had never been so excited and relieved as when she found the sword.

She had spent years doing fencing, and though the weapon was of Japanese rather than European origin, it still felt natural to use and allowed her to make quick work of the bloodthirsty monsters roaming the streets.

As she headed down the road (she hadn't noticed its name, not that it mattered anymore) she cut through several of them with ease. She had quickly discovered that severing their heads was the easiest way to destroy them, and though she didn't really care for the idea of destroying these creatures when she thought of how at some point they had been human, had lovers, had families, had friends – it was a necessity, and so she killed them.

"'m sorry," she mumbled habitually as she took the head off of the nearest of them, a middle-aged woman with chestnut hair.

It was evening, the sun was sinking, though it had done its job in making the streets unbearably hot. Though it was cooler now than it had been earlier, the pavement was hot and the air sticky and humid, causing strands of her straw-blonde hair to stick to her forehead as a result.

Although she did have a specific mission in mind, in the grand scheme of things, for this street Brienne had a much smaller goal; food. She hadn't eaten in a day, and she hoped to scavenge a few supplies from any of the houses down here, unless they had been scavenged already. Hopefully they hadn't.

As another of the shambling monsters approached her, she took off its head and muttered another apology.

Water would also be nice, although running water was essentially nonexistent and she somehow doubted anyone would have a nice collection of bottled water lying around. Her lips were dry and cracked and blistered; her apologies were almost painful to speak.

She walked, sword gripped tightly in both hands, towards the closest house. It was a fairly sizeable one, as were most of the houses down this lane, and – she took the doorknob in hand and turned it, letting out a sigh of relief – it was unlocked. Brienne had long fashioned a lockpick, although she didn't care any more for breaking into houses than she did killing the monsters that had once been the citizens of Westeros. However, like killing them, breaking into abandoned homes to scavenge had become part of her way of life in the past couple months, since the outbreak of the zombie virus.

She stepped quietly into the house, knuckles white as she gripped the blade, and swung it around to meet the neck of one of her many foes who had hidden in this particular home. It had snarled at her, but its voice was cut short as Brienne's sword met its throat, and blood gushed from it as its head rolled about on the floor.

"Sorry."

She wished so badly every day that this would be a dream, a nightmare, that she would wake up and it would be back to normal. But it never was.

Brienne found herself standing in a well-decorated living room, with wooden floors and blue furniture that reminded her of her father's home. A pang of sadness throbbed in her chest, and she shook the thought and carried on in search of anything useful.

It had been scavenging that had found Brienne her trusty sword, and she hoped that today's search would provide her with even more useful gear. Her flashlight had to be running low on batteries, so either more batteries or a new flashlight would be fantastic, or any sort of weaponry in case her sword should be lost or broken, or of course, she thought as hunger gnawed at her stomach, _food._

In the next room Brienne found a desk, and opened its drawers hopefully, but found nothing but sheets of paper and pens and documents that meant nothing to her. No batteries, no new flashlight, nothing of use to her. Pity.

She was thankful that the next room she headed into was the kitchen, and though she had to slay another of the monsters which lurked there (her sword cleaved its soft skull in half as though it were a watermelon; she had to wonder just how detrimental the disease was to their bodies if it was that easy to do so), it was well worth it.

She opened to the cupboards to find a number of abandoned boxes of non-perishable foods, and several cans of soup.

Brienne felt even more gleeful when she opened a drawer in the kitchen to find a lighter, and she found herself standing in the backyard making a fire using paper from the office and a number of twigs, and she cooked herself some of the chicken noodle soup.

The sun was setting even lower, and after it was cooked she quickly headed back indoors as not to attract more of the creatures with light form the fire. The house seemed to be empty now, and she sipped at her soup in peace, stomach relaxing a bit as Brienne gorged herself on soup and stale crackers. It was a meager meal compared to what she might have eaten in the days before the incident, but it was certainly better than nothing and it was welcome in her stomach.

Brienne continued her search of the house, and found little else of use, but threw the remaining boxes and cans into her backpack, and pocketed the lighter, silently thanking the smokers everywhere for having gifted her with a tool with which to make fire.

She continued down the street, picking a few more houses to scavenge from, and finding little in any of the next three. It was getting very dark now, and her flashlight was beginning to attract the attention of the creatures. It was time to find somewhere to settle.

The next house she picked was the largest on the street by far, and was locked. She cursed under her breath, but determined, pulled out her trusty lockpick and set to work, wriggling at the lock until she was able to spring the door open and walk inside.

She shone her flashlight back and forth, and found, thankfully, none of the monsters lurking about, at least not out in the open. She wasn't sure if that calmed or worried her.

Brienne carried on, but in her search for additional supplies and a place to sleep was cut short when her flashlight suddenly decided that its batteries were not enough for her, and out of nowhere its light dimmed, and went out. "Shit," she hissed under her breath, trying to feel her way around what she thought was the living room.

She took a step forward, and found herself crashing onto the floor as her foot caught onto a piece of furniture and she tumbled noisily to the floor.

Well, that had gone well.

Brienne swore again.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaime sat bolt upright as the loud noise thundered in the house.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself, standing quickly, but then giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. He felt around in the dark for his axe and grabbed onto it, heading slowly down the stairs.

He thanked every deity he could think of for having chosen to sleep in the house he had grown up in, it was easy to maneuver about in the dark.

He crept downstairs, silent as he could, hoping to sneak up on whatever stupid creature had stumbled into his house. How had that happened anyway? Jaime had locked all the doors, of that he was sure – perhaps he had simply missed one of the creatures?

Despite their shambling and disorientation, Jaime had never seen any of the zombies fall down before, unless it was at the hand of a weapon. This was a very peculiar situation.

He was certain the crash had come from the living room, so he rounded the corner, silent as he could possibly be, axe poised in his hand to strike down upon the skull of the miserable creature that had wandered somehow into his home – when he heard a voice.

"Fuck," it said in the dark, and he froze.

"…is someone there?" he spoke, dumbfounded. "Are you…a person?"

There was silence for a moment, and a voice – deep, but unmistakeably female, spoke back.

"…yes."

Anger flooded him. Whoever this stupid wench was, she had broken into his home, the home of his childhood and currently serving as his safehouse for the night. "What in the bloody hell are you doing in my house?" he hissed, lowering his weapon slightly – although he wasn't enthralled with her presence it was nice to know that there were still…people. Not that he would admit his relief to her.

"I thought it was abandoned," the voice said in the dark.

"It's not," he replied irritably. Jaime fumbled in one of the pockets in his jeans for a flashlight, and pulled it out, turning it on and shining it brightly in the poor girl's face.

"You're _human_," he muttered. It had to have been weeks since the last time he had seen a face that didn't want to tear the flesh from his bones with its own teeth. Irritated as Jaime was at the intruder and likely would-be thief, he was a little relieved to have found another living person.

"Well…yeah," she replied, squinting in attempt to see Jaime's face lit dimly by his flashlight. "I mean, the other…things, they don't talk."

He shook away from his relief, remembering that she had broken into his home.

"What are you _doing_ here? How did you get in?"

"Picked the lock," she replied, holding up her homemade lockpick and smiling weakly. "I'm…I'm really sorry, I honestly thought –"

"Yes, yes," he cut her off. "You thought it was abandoned. I'm aware." Jaime waved his stump dismissively; he noticed that her sapphire blue eyes widened at the sight and followed the handless arm as it waved.

This irritated Jaime further. He hated that he didn't have his right hand anymore, he didn't need anyone else ogling it.

"What were you _doing_ here?" he repeated, this time a little harsher. Jaime wished he had two hands, it would have been much easier to seem intimidating to her had he been able to hold both the flashlight and his axe.

She matched his gaze. "I'm _sorry_," she repeated. "I was…looking. For food, y'know. Supplies. Things are hard to come across sometimes, the way things…are…"

"So you were going to _steal_ from me!"

She looked alarmed. "You're…living here then? I mean, by yourself and all?"

Jaime paused for a moment. "Well…not right now, I mean. I used to live here. It's my father's house, but that doesn't matter, you're still _stealing_ from me!"

She sighed, a stubborn look in her eye. "I told you, I didn't think anyone was here. There wasn't a damn person down this whole street; it's not my fault that you happened to be here." Her temper was flaring, and it brought a smile to Jaime's face, not that she could see it.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them, before the woman spoke again, though much calmer than she had a moment ago. "Look, I'll just…I'll leave. I didn't mean to bother you, like I said, I did _not _know anyone was living here, and didn't expect I was…stealing," (Jaime noticed how much she struggled with the verb, like it was a huge mark on her honor to so much as utter it), "…from anyone who was still…alive."

"You don't need to leave," he blurted suddenly, though the moment the words left his mouth Jaime felt a twinge of regret. _Cersei,_ he reminded himself silently. _You need to find Cersei, not worry about some stupid wench who hasn't got a home. No one has a home, not anymore. Not even you. She will live._ But before he could rescind his invitation, she was already looking at him wide-eyed and almost with a sort of grudging admiration.

"D…do…are you sure?" she blurted, awkwardly stumbling over her words again.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his left hand, causing the flashlight's beam to roam wildly across the living room, casting a variety of monstrous looking shadows across the walls and floor. "You'd might as well," he muttered. "It's not like it's often you meet…y'know, _normal_ people anymore, there's no harm in helping each other out for a night. But you owe me one, wench."

"My name is –"

"I don't care," he cut her off flatly. "I'm tired, and my guess is you are too. Spare bedroom is upstairs and on the left. Please don't steal from me."

He turned on her and started to head up the stairs.

"I wasn't trying to steal from you!" she called after him. "I didn't know anyone was here!"

"So I heard," he called back. He thought she might have called something else after him, but he was hellbent on ignoring her now. Jaime settled back into his bed, and listened as the wench walked heavily across to the other bedroom and climbed into the bed in there.

In the morning, he decided, he would leave, and hopefully never meet her again. She was an awfully homely girl, and he had other things on his mind. He needed to find Cersei.


	4. Chapter 4

Panic washed over Brienne the next morning when she awoke; for a moment she forgot the events of the previous night and had no idea where she was. She leapt from the bed, heart pounding in her chest, grabbing her sword from the dresser she had laid it on – only to remember that she was safe, for now at least, that a one-handed man had taken pity on her and allowed her to stay in this place he had already cleared out and declared safe.

She would have to thank him profusely for this.

He seemed like a complete asshole, but he had saved her life – kind of. Brienne could have died had she gone back out there, with no flashlight in the dark. And Brienne was very much an honorable person, if nothing else, and so she put aside her thoughts of his personality for now in favour of the fact that he had inadvertently saved her life.

She glanced out the window, wondering just how early it was. Perhaps she could slip out before he even noticed. Perhaps she could find paper and…write him a note, or something. Thanking him. She didn't really like him, based on last night's impression, and perhaps avoiding a conversation with him would be for the better. Brienne sheathed her sword, grabbed her pack, and headed out.

She paused at his bedroom, taking a quick peak – and seeing nothing.

_Oh._

Frustration flooded her; this meant another encounter. Hopefully last night he had just been a tad on edge from having been woken up in the night, perhaps with some sleep he would be in a better mood and less likely to berate her for having broken into father's home and attempted to scavenge it for food and supplies.

Brienne thudded down the stairs, then paused for a moment, listening for what she realized (much to her bitter amusement) was the sounds of cooking. _Because that's still a thing that happens,_ she thought to herself. _Well done, Brienne._

Regardless, she decided that the kitchen would be a likely place to start. If there was still food in this house, she assumed that the man would have gotten himself some to start his morning with, even if it wasn't exactly pancakes and bacon.

But when she finally got up the courage to peak into the kitchen to see if she could spot the man, no one was there. For a moment she felt relief, but then Brienne realized that this meant that he had left her – and there was something rather bittersweet about that. She had wanted to thank him, at the very least. Even if it was just a note. The man had been really quite rude, but she still wanted him to know that she was thankful for her actions – it was, admittedly, a bit of a mark on her honor to know that she hadn't properly thanked him. Or rather, she had, but at that point he had already gone up the stairs and rounded the corner to his own room, and Brienne doubted he had heard her. Or at least, that he had _wanted_ to hear her, it seemed to her that it was equally likely that he had simply chosen to ignore her in favour of sleep.

Then an idea overcame her – perhaps _he _had left a note. Perhaps his leaving wasn't permanent. She looked for a moment at the cupboards, hunger gnawing at her once again. A part of her wanted very much to open those cupboards and see if there was anything in there worth eating, however another part of her realized that if he _was_ only gone temporary, this would likely result in yet another round of his insinuating that she was some kind of petty thief.

And thus Brienne ignored her stomach, for now at least, and decided to see if she could find anything suggesting where he had gone, or whether or not it was a temporary leave or if he had moved on to do…whatever it was he was doing.

She searched the house, or the obvious places in it at least (it was a very large home, and she somehow doubted that, if he had left a note, it would be anyplace that she wasn't already familiar with). Brienne rounded back to her bedroom and looked there, poked a head in his, went to the living room and the kitchen and even a bathroom, checked the front door – nothing. It would appear as if the man had left his precious home that he had been so protective of the night before.

Her stomach growled again.

_Okay, he's gone. Just a peak in the cupboards, then._

She found several empty boxes of crackers and cookies and cereal, but it looked as though it was already well-raided. She would have to cook up something from one of her cans that she had found earlier, Brienne decided, although that could wait. She had been hungry before, and would be again. There were more important things at stake here, like finding Mrs Stark's daughter.

Well, it was time to leave, then. There was nothing left in this house for her, and she had things to do and people to search for, and if this man had left before she had been able to thank him, then it was his own damn fault he wasn't getting any appreciation from her and there was no point in sticking around to see if he would come back.

Brienne grabbed up her things and headed out the door, sword in hand. The street was mostly very empty today, not many of the dead men had wandered into this particular lane today, it seemed. Hopefully the rest of the creatures would also decide to stay put and not bother her. Hopefully.

Alright, she had to figure out where she was and where she was going to go to. It seemed most likely that Sansa would be in the King's Landing building, right in the centre of the city – but that was far from here, and would take a while to get to. Westeros City was massive, or had been, at least. Brienne doubted that borders and city names mattered anymore, not when 99% of the population was made up of undead men with no society or ability to do anything aside from stumbling along and eating flesh.

But King's Landing seemed a likely place to search for her. It was the political centre of the city, and Brienne imagined that a number of people had likely gathered there. If Sansa wasn't with her mother, there was a good chance that she was with her late fiancé's mother Cersei, who was likely in King's Landing. Now, she had to figure out where she was, first.

Seeing a street sign in the distance, Brienne jogged over and squinted at it. _Casterly Road. So…_Brienne glanced down the street at the house she had been in last night, the huge _mansion_ of a home. Could it be that the man from last night was…a Lannister? He had said that the home belonged to his father, which would make it very possible that last night _Jaime Lannister_ of all people had let her into his – or rather, his father's – home. _Nah,_ she thought. That seemed unlikely. She'd never heard of Jaime Lannister having only one hand – although, come to think of it, the last time she had heard anything about the man, she'd heard he was in the hospital…but she'd never been to the Lannister mansion on Casterly Road in her life, and there were several other fairly sizeable homes down this lane. It was quite possible that she had simply met another wealthy man in a large home on Casterly Road.

Shaking her head, Brienne pushed the thoughts of Jaime Lannister from her mind and began making a mental map. If Casterly was here, then that meant that King's Landing was to the west. If nothing else, Brienne had good survival skills – and she certainly knew her directions well. She turned herself west and began to head out.

She _would_ find Sansa Stark. She had to be in King's Landing, holed up there with all of the various important people of Westeros City, waiting out this damned…whatever you wanted to call it. Brienne refused to call it 'apocalypse'.


	5. Chapter 5

If Jaime squinted, he could make out some of the skyscrapers from the central part of Westeros City in the distance. The Crownlands, they called it. Downtown. The political centre of Westeros City. He could sort of point out which building was King's Landing (at least, he thought that had to be it, it was rising just a bit above the others and if he remembered correctly, King's Landing was the tallest), home to much of the governmental work to be had within the city. Where he was headed, and where he hoped his sister was.

The sun beat down heavily on him, and he found himself pulling up the sleeves of his shirt again, sweat sticking to his forehead. He had left early that morning, hoping to avoid the silly girl who had wandered into his father's home in hopes of ransacking the place, and he had succeeded. Following Jaime's sneaking out, he had found the Goldroad Highway and headed down towards the Crownlands region of Westeros City. Towards King's Landing. Towards his beloved sister and lover, Cersei.

And away from the great ugly wench.

Jaime's legs ached dully, but he didn't care anymore. He had to find Cersei, even if it took him all day to get to her, he didn't care. He wanted nothing more than to find her again; he had missed her so much since the stupid fucking crimelord Vargo Hoat had tried to take off his hand, since had gone to the hospital with his right hand broken and bleeding so badly that the doctors had told him that there was no other way, that they were going to have to take it off.

He still had nightmares about it.

Jaime looked wistfully over at the cars lining the highway, a glorious rainbow of abandoned vehicles giving the road before him a chaotic and terrifying look. Perhaps one of them would have gas, he thought. It was a longshot, but perhaps it was worth it to look and see. Given how tired and aching his legs were, after all, he thought that there was certainly no harm in trying to seek out a car. Sure, it would slow down his journey to Cersei…but if she was there, and he was really quite certain she would be, then it would be one of the safest buildings in Westeros. For the number of important people there (and there were very, _very _many important people who spent their time in that building), the security was incredible, and no doubt equipped for situations even as ludicrous as a zombie apocalypse. Of that, he was certain.

And she was a survivor, after all. If anyone could hole up in an office building and survive the zombie apocalypse, it would be his beloved sister.

Jaime peeked into the first car, a worn out looking car that had to have been made in the mid-eighties, dull brown paint peeling from its sides – but found no key. He wished now more than ever before (in fact, possibly for the first time in his live) that he knew how to hotwire a car. However, auto had never been a class that had interested him in high school, no, his fascination had always been with the law, and with policing. It was something of a pity, now. How he wished he could go back in time and tell his younger self to take the damn car course anyways, just for the sake of learning things that could help him when the zombie apocalypse came around.

Somehow he doubted that his younger self would believe him.

Jaime carried onto the next vehicle, a bright orange SUV – not exactly his style, not with that colour at least – but found it too to be empty of keys. He tried this again several with several more vehicles, until the sun was beginning to set, and his feet ached more than ever, and he felt completely hopeless. This was a very stupid idea and he was very stupid for thinking of it, he could've been much further if he'd just walked like a normal human being rather than getting lazy and tired and trying to find a goddamn _car_.

_ Who the hell even leaves the keys in the car?!_ He thought to himself, frustrated. He kicked the next vehicle he found, which hurt his foot even more. And set off the alarm.

The convertible he had kicked began honking and yelling, a cacophony of sounds blaring loudly and attracting the attention of some previously disinterested zombies. Jaime swallowed, and gripped the axe in his left hand tightly.

_Jaime Lannister, you are an idiot._

He swung at one, and hit it, swung at another, and missed. He flailed wildly about in circles, missing his right hand more than he ever had, and trying desperately to break away from the growing crowd.

"Shut up!" he shouted needlessly at the car. "Cut it out!"

He swung again, and again, missing some, hitting others. They were getting closer and more numerous and it was getting harder for Jaime to fight the things off.

One nearly grabbed him, its mouth gaping and full of flesh, but he danced to the side and cut its throat in a lucky swing. He was beginning to feel even more hopeless. _This is it,_ Jaime thought. _I'm going to die. Right here, halfway to King's Landing, surrounded by fucking walking corpses._

It was at this moment that he heard the roar of a motor.


	6. Chapter 6

Brienne's drive had been surprisingly uneventful until she noticed heard in the distance the blaring of a car horn. Her first instinct was that there were _people_ here, and she sped forth until she could see the crowd of zombies in the distance. Her heart fell as she watched the group of them for a moment, until she saw a man in the midst of the crowd, a one-handed man swinging an axe around wildly and who very clearly was going to end up dead if he kept it up at this rate.

_Of course_ it was him. Brienne did owe him her life, she realized, he had saved her. Sure, he'd been a complete asshat about it, but in allowing her to stay the night in his father's home he had saved her from having to face a night of constant wariness and having to be on edge in order to protect herself from zombies, and had she fallen asleep she almost certainly would have been another one of the walking dead in the morning. Frustrating a man as he was, he had saved her, and she owed him. Brienne sped ahead.

She caught the shocked look on his face in amusement as her car rammed into several of the walking corpses, knocking them down like bowling pins, and knocking another one down as she flung her car door open. "Get in," Brienne hissed. She would carry him away to safety, at least. Then her debt would be paid, there would no longer be any mark on her honor on account of having not thanked him, and all would be well.

The man ran around to the passenger's side of the car quick as he could, dodging the flailing arms of the dead men around him. He flung the door open and jumped in, slamming it shut. His eyes were wide, and he panted for a moment before he looked at her.

And then Brienne recognized him. She had thought before that he might have been Jaime Lannister, but now, in this light, she was sure. He looked far more grizzled than the last time she had seen him, although she suspected that being a part of a zombie apocalypse could wear a person down, and she somehow doubted that he had time to shave. But, beard and all, it was definitely him looking back at her.

"What in the hell are _you_ doing here?!"

Brienne snorted in response, shooting a glare at him as her foot slammed onto the gas pedal – successfully getting them away from the dead men and also jolting the man she was almost completely sure was Jaime Lannister's head harshly off the passenger seat headrest. "Who were you expecting?" she shot back.

He still looked shock, though she thought she could sense a sort of grateful feeling to his facial features. He didn't think he was going to live.

"Look," she said, before he could respond. "You saved me, now I'm saving you. Fair is fair. My debt is paid, and I'll get you far enough away from those damned creatures and I'll send you on your way, alright?"

He stared at her again for a moment, dumbfounded, before speaking. "How…how did you find me?" His voice was quieter, calmer now than it had been before. She shrugged. "Wasn't on purpose," she said. "I was heading this way, and I saw you…" Brienne's voice trailed off. She had brought the car back down to a normal speed, no longer feeling as though they were in any immediate danger. Brienne was very much a fan of safety and had no plans to die in a car accident during the zombie apocalypse. If she was going to die, she wanted to at least be with her sword in hand.

There was silence between them then, for a good five or ten minutes before finally the man she thought was probably-almost-certainly Jaime Lannister spoke again. "Where are we going, anyways?" he asked, peering into the distance, where she could make out several of the buildings from the Crownlands neighbourhood, including the one she was heading for – King's Landing. _Hopefully Sansa will be there,_ she thought to herself. She wanted so badly to get the girl home to her mother. Catelyn had lost enough as was.

She cleared her throat. "Not _we_. I'll be dropping you off soon, thank you. Once we get into town, at least. I'm sure you can handle yourself from there. It is where you were headed, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, eyes narrowed.

There was another bout of silence.

"I have family here," he told her after a while. "At least, I think I do. I _hope_ I do."

He had been such an asshole to her the day before, but looking at him now she almost felt a sort of remorse for him. Here he was, looking for people, just the same as she was. Except family wasn't her priority, not right now – her father Selwyn had assured her that he was fine many times, and his house was nearly a fortress. He would be fine. She hoped. Brienne would be trying to visit him next, that was for certain. But first, the Stark girl.

She said nothing back to him, so after another moment of pregnant silence he continued.

"My sister. Maybe my brother. But almost definitely my sister," he told her. "I…I haven't seen her in…well, must be months now," he said, laughing bitterly. "I'm Jaime, by the way. Jaime Lannister."

And so Brienne's theory had been proven. "I know," she replied gruffly. Brienne knew plenty of Jaime Lannister and his family, and she had heard plenty of the rumors surrounding himself and his sister. Not that Brienne was the gossiping type per se, but still, looking at him now she found she couldn't keep her mind to wandering back to those disgusting rumors. _Incest, _in this day and age. At any rate, Brienne had no interest in getting to know Jaime Lannister.

His eyebrows raised slightly at her remark. He was a very well-known man, given all the scandals around himself and his family, and given the political statuses of his father and sister. It shouldn't have come as much of a surprise to him that she knew who he was.

"And…you are…?"

"Brienne," she replied, voice still very gruff in tone. "I'm not here to get to know you, Lannister. I'm here to drive you to the city, and that's all."

"Fine, fine," he replied, leaning against the window slightly. Then he sat up. "So where in the city are you headed to?" Apparently he didn't care that she didn't want to talk to him. _Great_.

"King's Landing," she replied. Perhaps if she continued to give him only short, one or two word answers he would give up and she would be free to enjoy this drive in silence.

"Me too!" Jaime grinned widely. "Look, maybe you can just drive me to King's Landing, yes?"

As much as she disliked this man – he was all arrogance and though he seemed to have lightened up significantly since the other night, she knew enough about him to know he wasn't exactly the friendliest man – it did make sense.

"…I suppose," she muttered.

"Now _there_'_s _a good wench," he replied with a grin, leaning back and throwing his feet up on the dashboard, apparently feeling much more comfortable now.

Brienne glared at him. "If you could remove your _feet_, sir – "

"Where did you get this car, anyways?" he cut her off, looking around at the interior. "I mean, I think I would have noticed a great big girl like yourself driving a goddamn _working car_ down the street, so you didn't have it before." His voice was an arrogant drawl. Apparently now that she had agree d to take him to King's Landing, politeness was no longer necessary.


End file.
